


1-800 SEXY ROBOT

by fotias



Category: Metal Gear
Genre: Awkward Sexual Situations, Cyborgs, Kinda, M/M, Male Solo, Masturbation, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Unrequited Lust, cyborg heat?, god this is hard to tag, here we go again, otacon may not return raiden's feelings but he is a nice and a bro about it, pillow humping, raiden has no genitals 😔, uhhh, whoops! i accidentally made you super horny and now i have to program the ability to cum into you
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-08
Updated: 2019-12-08
Packaged: 2021-02-26 03:07:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,521
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21716605
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fotias/pseuds/fotias
Summary: “I dunno if you noticed, but they didn't exactly give me the right… uh… equipment, to deal with this.”Another meek “Oh”. Otacon tapped a few keys, then somehow blushed harder. “...oh, you can’t…oh.Sorry, I…” He coughed, still avoiding any sort of eye contact. “This is kind of a situation, isn't it…?”
Relationships: Otacon/Raiden (Metal Gear), again - Relationship, on raiden's end, onesided - Relationship
Comments: 22
Kudos: 89





	1-800 SEXY ROBOT

“Hold still for a sec while I plug this last one in.”

Raiden gave a soft “mm” of acknowledgement, wincing slightly as Otacon inserted yet another wire into his back. It didn't hurt, exactly, but the sensation definitely took some getting used to.

“And…” He tapped at the keyboard, making windows appear that Raiden had no hope of understanding. “...there! The wireless uplink should be established now. You can go ahead and get comfortable.”

He grumbled quietly, unceremoniously yanking out all of the cables stuck in his back before rolling over and snuggling himself back into the couch. Otacon had been talking about this upgrade for a while—apparently it would make monitoring his vitals, most importantly his blood composition, easier—but he hadn't gotten a chance to do so until today, when Snake and Sunny were out of the house, on a daddy-daughter trip to some local horse stables.

Raiden wrapped himself up in the blanket draped at his feet, letting his eyes unfocus. On the one hand, the idea of someone having access to his vitals even without him being around… well, it freaked him out, if he was being honest with himself. On the other, though, being able to tell when he was on the verge of becoming blood poisoned without almost dying again was _probably_ a good idea. Otacon apparently sensed his discomfort—he’d never really liked being poked and prodded like an experiment—and asked uneasily, “Are—are you comfortable? Can I help with anything?”

“You’re fine,” Raiden muttered, his artificial voice box crackling just slightly. “Appreciate it.”

“Just… remember, I can sever the connection if it ever gets too invasive for you, okay?” He typed something else into his laptop, then nodded decisively. “I’m gonna run a couple tests to make sure everything’s working like it should in there. Hormones, pH balance, temperature, stuff like that. Is that alright?”

Raiden managed a smile despite himself, curling up tighter in the blanket. He was never quite sure how to respond to it, but the way Otacon fussed and worried over him was reassuring; he seemed to go out of his way to make sure he’d feel infinitely safer in his hands than those of the Patriot scientists, and Raiden appreciated it. “Thanks. Go ahead. You need me awake?”

“If you don’t mind.” He pushed up his glasses with a finger.

_Damn it._ “Mhmm.”

He forced his eyes to stay open as Otacon adjusted settings, checked his screen, typed something rapidly, then looked up to gauge Raiden’s state. After about fifteen repetitions of the process, Raiden heard him swear quietly under his breath, then hit one key several times consecutively. He suppressed a snort. _So even Otacon screws up with computer stuff sometimes._

The first sign that something had changed was his internal fans kicking in, the soft whirr humming in his ears. He didn't exactly feel hot, but he kicked off the blanket anyway. Otacon didn't seem to have noticed anything off, so maybe his processors were just working harder because of the wireless uplink?

“Hold on a moment,” Otacon mumbled, and his voice sounded clear enough to inform Raiden that he had somehow stopped being tired and out of it in the five minutes he’d been lying down. “I’m gonna need to open you up to adjust something.”

Raiden groaned softly, but nodded, allowing the intrusion for now. Having his exoskeleton opened was never a comfortable experience, but as long as it was over with quickly, he could tolerate the prodding.

Otacon smiled encouragingly, approaching Raiden with a screwdriver and a small hooked metal tool he didn't know the name of. He got to work quickly, unscrewing the bolts that held the clear plastic guards on his chest while Raiden pointedly avoided eye contact.

_It’s almost intimate,_ a thought bubbled to the surface of his mind. _Like being undressed._

He could feel his cheeks heat up, and the room _definitely_ seemed warmer now. _Stop thinking about weird things! He’s trying to help you!_

…but then he caught Otacon mumble “incredible” to himself softly as he pulled the casing off his chest, and he was _definitely_ blushing now and definitely more than a little horny. _Fuck. Hold it together, hold it together._

“Everything alright?” Otacon asked, and for maybe the seventeenth time Raiden remembered the strangest consequence of his artificial white blood—instead of blushing, he went pale. Judging by how hot he felt, he must have looked deathly ill. 

“I’m fine. Just…” He gritted his teeth, artificial grinding against organic. He was so fucking _hot_ all of a sudden, and his mind felt like it was swimming in a heavy fog, yet somehow all of his senses were on high alert. Shaking his head and squeezing his eyes shut to ward off the carnal imagery which was so suddenly interrupting every train of thought he had, he muttered, “Just… try to get it over with.”

“If something’s uncomfortable I can—”

“Just hurry. Please.” Raiden interrupted, averting his eyes, squirming uncomfortably. He wasn't normally so blunt, but the situation he was in, with Otacon positioned over him while he carefully tinkered with something internal in his chest, was frankly driving him crazy.

He found himself focusing on his hands, watching him fiddle with the intricate, delicate circuits, idly pondering how it would feel to have someone so fixated on his chest if he were still flesh and blood. Something in his mind willed the touch lower, lower, _lower_. He twitched slightly at his mind’s sudden intrusion of lascivious fantasy into an innocent act, feeling his face heat up with embarrassment and hoping desperately his thoughts weren’t showing in his expression. The way he talked wasn't helping either; he spoke so gently to Raiden, so concerned about his comfort, and he’d normally appreciate his consideration but _fuck_ he was so hot and he couldn't keep his mind from continuing to wander, imagining hands on his chest, hands on his hips, hands on his—

“—iden? Raiden?” Otacon sheepishly waved a hand in front of his face. “I’m gonna close it up now. Stay with me, okay?”

Raiden gave a vague hum of acknowledgement. He was _more_ than goddamn awake; the feeling of Otacon’s hands on his chest was starting to become unbearable, and he had to resist the impulse to buck his hips up, desperately craving friction.

_What’s wrong with me, anyway?_ he wondered helplessly, practically on the verge of panting. _Every other time he does this it’s no big deal, so why is it driving me nuts_ now _?_

It wasn't any relief when Otacon had gotten his chest plate screwed back on securely; Raiden found himself immediately and sorely missing the contact. He draped an arm over his face, trying to hide his labored breathing. What bothered him more than anything was that—while he hadn't exactly gotten the chance to experiment with it yet—he suspected that since the Patriots hadn't bothered to give this body any genitals, he might not even _have_ the ability to orgasm.

A quiet sound, almost like a growl, escaped his lips. _Why would I? It’s not like they’d pass up an opportunity to make my life worse._

“Uh—sorry. Are you…?” Otacon’s voice echoed nervously from behind his laptop as he rapidly clicked through menus. “Your heart rate is really high, is everything…?”

He trailed off as Raiden made direct eye contact with him, breathing heavy and deliberate.

“I’m really…” He licked his lips and averted his gaze for a moment, trying desperately to convey the situation he was in without having to explain it directly. “...really… hot.”

“Oh.” Otacon focused intensely on his laptop for a moment, then glanced back up at Raiden, then back down at his laptop. Slowly, a heavy blush bloomed on his cheeks, and he repeated himself, this time heavy with understanding. “ _Oh._ ”

_What’s that supposed to mean?_ Raiden bit his lip, balling up the blanket in one fist, studying him carefully.

Otacon typed something hurriedly, then visibly swallowed. “I might have… I think I screwed up.”

“Screwed up?” He felt his chest swell with anxiety, even in his distracted state. “What do you…”

“Nothing unsafe, it’s just—I, uh. Your hormone levels, I messed up inputting something and now they’re… well, you can probably tell.”

_No shit._ Raiden swore under his breath, clenching his fists tighter. _Fuck,_ this was unbearable. All he wanted was something _in_ him.

“Can you… can you fix it? Do _something?_ ” He threw Otacon a pleading gaze.

“It’s, uh… it’s a baseline set level, so it’ll be kind of a hassle to fix. If you want I can just…” He was looking everywhere but at Raiden, clearly uncomfortable. “I can… leave the room, so you can, uh… take care of it.”

“Damn it,” Raiden muttered out loud without meaning to. He almost wanted to laugh. _If only it were that simple._

“I dunno if you noticed, but they didn't exactly give me the right… uh… equipment, to deal with this.”

Another meek “Oh”. Otacon tapped a few keys, then somehow blushed harder. “...oh, you can’t… _oh_. Sorry, I…” He coughed, still avoiding any sort of eye contact. “This is kind of a situation, isn't it…?”

Raiden forced out a laugh, bouncing restlessly. “I-it’s… uh… it’s pretty uncomfortable.”

A heavy, incredibly awkward silence, punctuated by Raiden’s sharp breaths, close to panting.

“...It’s probably a software lock on your oxytocin levels, o-or something… uh.” Otacon adjusted his glasses, his hands slipping on the bridge. “If you… if you wanted, I could… uh, work on decrypting, and un-unlocking that for you…”

Raiden bit his lip, dragging his gaze back over to Otacon. “S-sounds like…” _Like you’re propositioning me,_ his hormone-addled brain supplied, and he shook his head, wrestling the thought away. “...like it’s worth a shot.”

God, this was agonizingly awkward. His heart—or whatever passed for it—felt like it was trying to beat out of his chest, and he wasn't sure how much longer he’d be able to keep himself acting decently. “Th-thanks.”

Otacon nodded decisively, clearly trying just as hard to ignore the general weirdness of the situation. “...Okay. You can, uh… while I work on this, if you, um.” He was visibly sweating. “...I-if you want some… privacy, you can leave the room and I’ll work remotely…”

_Privacy_. His mind lit up at the prospect of getting to act on all the urges his brain was sending to his body without being watched. Raiden nodded rapidly, and wordlessly started climbing off the couch.

...and immediately tumbled to the floor, his legs shaky and weak, his head dizzy. “Fuck, _fuck_ ,” he swore, pulling himself to his hands and knees. This was not ideal. When was the last time he’d been so horny his _legs_ stopped working?

“Let me—” Otacon rushed over to help him, and seemed to realize a second too late the consequences of that action; all he'd done was gently support him under his arms, and yet Raiden let out a sound like an aborted moan, feeling electrified by the smallest contact.

Their eyes met for a brief moment, and then Raiden broke the contact; he nodded slowly, eyes half-lidded, practically drunk on aphrodisiac. “I-it’s fine. Just—hurry. Please.”

He was relieved when Otacon seemed to immediately understand what he was implying, but he wasn't exactly prepared for the _feeling_ being picked up and carried gave him. Every desperately sensitive nerve ending exploded at once with the sensation of skin on skin—or in his case, skin on metal. It was intoxicating, and the only thing that motivated him to suppress the needy moans stuck in his throat was a deep desire to keep things from getting too awkward. Bouncing his leg rapidly to vent all the excess energy, he kept himself perfectly still, biting his lip hard enough that he suspected it’d draw blood if it was still flesh. Every part of his brain that wasn't fantasizing about getting fucked so hard he wouldn't be able to walk for a week was focused on staying quiet and not clinging tighter to Otacon, despite his impulses screaming otherwise. His nerves were _more_ numb now than they were before. What kind of indescribable pleasure would this have been if he were still flesh and blood? He stifled a moan, closing his eyes.

He was tossed somewhat unceremoniously onto a bed, remembering faintly that his body was now unusually lightweight—somewhere around 90 pounds. Taking a heavy breath, he pawed around the bed, assessing his surroundings through his haze of arousal, and—and Otacon was still standing at the door for some reason.

“Let me know if you, uh—when you—i-if it gets fixed.” He tapped his fingers nervously on the doorknob, and Raiden suppressed the urge to snarl at him, substituting it with a hurried nod, mentally begging _please just leave the fucking room I feel like a wild animal_.

The moment the door shut, Raiden let out a positively obscene noise, rubbing his thighs together, desperate for friction. It vaguely occurred to him that Otacon could probably hear him moaning, but he didn’t care anymore—he wanted, _needed_ , hands on him, anything _in_ him, sick and dizzy for want of anything that would stem the frantic need burning in every part of his body. He pawed wildly around the bed, mindlessly searching for anything that would help satisfy him, and ended up clawing at a pillow. _That’ll do_ , his hormone-addled brain conceded, and he shoved it between his legs and began fucking it aggressively, slamming his hips into it repeatedly, rocking the entire bed. He gasped breathlessly, his lungs barely supplying enough air, hissing through his teeth, “Fuck, _god_ ”; he didn’t have anything there anymore, but the area was just as sensitive to the touch as if he still did. It wasn’t enough—wasn’t anywhere near enough—but it was all he could do, and he threw his body weight into the pillow over and over, clawing at the sheets, whimpering for more, more, _more_.

There wasn’t anything he could do, though—the lock was still in place. It was an indescribably frustrating feeling, arousal addling his brain and driving him crazy without any hope of relief, any sort of finish to build up to, just mindless, rabid masturbation with no end in sight. “ _Fuck,"_ he gasped again, whining a little helplessly, his mind too foggy for coherent thought. He couldn’t do anything. He couldn’t do anything at all, and he let out another frustrated moan, feeling barely in control of himself. His body moved on its own while his mind wandered, from _this would feel so much better if I just had my old body_ to _but I’m a machine now, right? I could take cock so well, I’d never even get tired_ to _god, I wish I could just shove something_ in _me_. Eventually, his thoughts settled on the only other person in the house.

_Otacon._

_You wouldn’t really—_

_Of course I fucking would._

He balled up the sheets in his hand and let his eyes slip shut. _God_ , he’d do absolutely anything to get fucked again, and it would be easy, wouldn’t it? He was so desperately horny, so out of his right mind, so helplessly controlled by his primal urges… Hal could have his way with him, do anything at all he wanted, and he’d love it, he’d beg for more, it would be so _easy_.

Just like that, the faceless person railing him in his fantasies suddenly had a name and a face and a voice, and Raiden squeezed his eyes shut, hopelessly willing it into reality. “Hal,” he gasped, softly at first, then louder, needy, animalistic, begging for him to come have his way with him, to pin him to the bed and spread him open and fuck him until he passed out. Hazily, it occurred to him that he was probably moaning loud enough to hear across the house, and even hazier he thought maybe that was a good thing.

By now, he was doing little more than slamming his hips into the pillow and moaning for Hal to come take advantage of his hormone-addled state and willingness to do anything, _anything_ at all to satisfy his insatiable lust. _He wouldn’t, though, would he?_ whatever fraction of his brain was left that wasn’t completely consumed with fantasy interjected. _He’s a good man. He wouldn’t take advantage of you like that._

The thought only ended up feeding his carnal thoughts _—he’d be so good to me, he’d take such good care of me, he’d fuck me any way I wanted—_ and any shame he’d felt at begging for his cock so openly melted away, leaving only indulgent fantasy and the desperate motion of his body against the bed. His mind was becoming hazier and hazier, the frustrating lack of satisfaction fading into the background, replaced by a mindless _more, more, more._ At some point, his mouth had stopped being able to form words, reduced to shameless, needy whimpers and moans. Raiden wasn’t sure he could stop even if he tried, even if he’d wanted to. He gave in, letting his body do whatever it wanted; his desires were impossible to satisfy.

...until they weren’t.

After working himself up for so long, something finally sort of… clicked. Raiden’s vision flashed in a kaleidoscope of colors, then white, then black, the past several hours of frustration coming to a head all at once as his body seized with a frankly alarmingly strong orgasm. Indescribable, godly bliss coursed through his entire body, more than he could process, more than his systems knew how to handle. He let out a scream of pleasure—a literal _scream—_ before the thrill overwhelmed his brain, temporarily knocking it offline, and he fell limp on the bed, pillow still shoved haphazardly between his thighs.

“God,” he mumbled without moving his lips, his speakers producing the sound while his body rebooted, too overwhelmed for coherent speech. “F-fuck.”

The door slammed open before Raiden could figure out what was going on.

“Raiden, a-are you—oh, god, did I—I heard you scream, I-I—” Raiden’s position meant he was stuck staring into the sheets, but he could guess from the tone of Otacon’s voice that he was both incredibly flustered and extremely panicked. _Did he think he_ killed _me or something?_ Maybe he was seeing it through the rose-colored lens of post-orgasmic bliss, but it struck him as the funniest thing he’d heard all day.

Shaking like a leaf, he managed to raise up one of his hands to signal he was conscious— _better_ than goddamn conscious. He made another attempt to produce speech, but after the words _I’m fine_ had been sent through the pleasure-scrambled haze of his brain, they came out as a half-moan, a quiet “Mmmf.”

“Oh.” He could hear Otacon shut his laptop quietly, and then there was a miserably awkward silence.

“...y-you must be exhausted.” _God_ , was that the truth. Raiden was completely spent, grateful for the lack of cleanup he had to do, and unwilling to even try to move. He smiled lazily to himself as Otacon set his laptop on the bed, gently scooping Raiden’s limp body into his arms. He was steady, warm; Raiden didn’t normally allow himself to be cared for like this, but he was so _tired_ , and so content, and his head was swimming in the best mood he’d been in since… he couldn’t think of an example.

Being held, feeling Otacon’s heart beat softly against his head, reminded him of exactly what he’d been yelling across the house; he could feel his face heat up, but managed to swallow down his embarrassment. He could worry about the repercussions of that later, he decided. For now, he’d simply enjoy being carried by someone he had just spent two hours fantasizing about having rough sex with.

Raiden was carried to the guest bedroom and set gently on the sheets, covered with a blanket. He smiled faintly, feeling himself begin to unwind, his artificial muscles untensing; he was so _warm_ , so soothed. Otacon was speaking to him, pointedly avoiding eye contact, and he forced himself to focus on his flustered mumbling: “...really sorry, about all of this. I, um… unlocked your oxytocin levels, and adjusted your other hormones to a more normal baseline, so this… all… won’t happen again, I promise. I-it must have been really… Uh. Anyway…”

Letting his eyes fall open, Raiden produced a soft sound, somewhere between a laugh and a sigh, then forced his brain to arrange more concepts into coherent spoken English. “‘S fine. Just a mistake.” His eyes slipped shut again, a sleepy haze starting to overtake his brain. “Thanks… comfy.”

“Let me know if you need anything at _all_ , okay? If anything feels the slightest bit off, just yell for me. I adjusted a lot of stuff so I’m not sure if…” He wanted to pay attention, he really did, but the bed was so warm and Otacon’s nervous rambling was so predictable and calming that he really couldn’t help but drift off to sleep, satisfied.

**Author's Note:**

> god how did this get so long. I continue to write for an audience of one person who is me
> 
> [yes the title is an actual song.](https://soundcloud.com/dantemarsajeto/1-800-sexy-robot)
> 
> please leave a comment if you liked it!!


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